


Swordplay

by yafan92



Series: The High Lord, High Lady, and Spymaster [5]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:34:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26841484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yafan92/pseuds/yafan92
Summary: When Rhys thinks he can beat Azriel in the training ring, Feyre comes up with a wager with terms that ensure everyone wins.
Relationships: Azriel/Rhysand (ACoTaR), Feyre Archeron/Azriel/Rhysand
Series: The High Lord, High Lady, and Spymaster [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901665
Comments: 25
Kudos: 106





	Swordplay

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for all the lovely people who commented on my previous works asking for more Rhys/Az action. I hope it lives up to your expectations!

I woke slowly that morning, as I did most mornings, luxuriating in the knowledge that the seemingly endless days of early meetings were finally in the past. Without opening my eyes, I stretched with a yawn before curling on my side and reaching over toward my mate. However instead of the soft, warm skin I expected, my fingers encountered the texture of worn leather. I cracked open my eyes to find Rhys sitting next to me fully dressed, his sword peeking over his shoulder.

“Good morning, Feyre,” he said with a smile, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple.

I frowned at him. “Why are you wearing leathers?” I asked. “Are you going somewhere?”

“No, no,” he reassured, running a comforting hand through my hair. “But Az and I are going to train for a while. We’ll do a few aerial exercises and then we’ll be in the training ring, if you’d like to join us.”

I groaned and pressed my face into the pillow. “What is it with you Illyrians and your early morning exercising?” I complained. “Don’t you have any respect for the sanctity of breakfast?”

He chuckled and pinched my side, making me squirm. “I already had breakfast, sleepyhead,” he teased.

I grumbled a curse as I rolled onto my back. “Fine,” I pouted, “I’ll eat alone.”

Rhys rolled his eyes at my dramatics as he stood and stretched out his wings. “I’m sure Elain and Lucien will be along soon enough to keep you company,” he said drily.

I shuddered slightly at the thought. “You and I were never as bad as those two, right?” I asked, recalling the love-struck gazing the pair had taken to engaging in.

“Oh no, Feyre darling,” Rhys assured me. “We were definitely worse. Still are, in fact,” he said with a wink before striding out of the room. I glared at his retreating form, but couldn’t help appreciating the way his leather pants hugged the muscles of his ass and legs. So maybe he had a point.

I allowed myself another few minutes to snuggle into the warmth of the bed before rising and getting dressed for the day. Rather than reaching for my leathers, I pulled on a paint-splattered pair of pants and sweater, reasoning that I wouldn’t have time for both breakfast and training before I had to teach my class at the gallery.

Elain and Lucien were indeed in the dining room when I made my way there, but evidently had just finished eating and were on their way to the garden. I wished them both a good morning as we passed in the doorway, Elain settling her wide-brimmed hat on her head before tucking her arm through her mate's. I grinned to myself as I sat and loaded up my plate; I was glad to see my sister and my friend so happy after all they had endured.

finished my breakfast quickly, washing down the food with several cups of tea before deciding to head outside to the training ring to watch Rhys and Azriel for a few minutes. With Cassian gone for months already, I had spent a fair amount of time with Rhys, Azriel, and even Lucien keeping my skills sharp, and was glad we no longer had to keep flying back and forth to the House of Wind since the river house was completed. As I stepped into the side courtyard, I was met with the sound of clanging swords, followed by Azriel's laughter as Rhys cursed him soundly.

I rounded the corner of the house to find my mate inspecting a shallow cut across his arm, a few small droplets of blood beading on his skin. Both males had already stripped to the waist, and I was greeted by an abundance of musculature as they noticed my arrival and turned to face me.

"Azriel cut me!" Rhys exclaimed without preamble, while the shadowsinger snorted and rolled his eyes.

"I'm pretty sure you've had worse, Rhys," I deadpanned, giving Az a small smile in greeting. "Don't let me interrupt your sparring."

"Not even a word of comfort for your poor, injured mate?" Rhys asked with mock outrage, pressing a hand to his chest.

Now it was my turn to roll my eyes. _"Illyrian baby,"_ I crooned down the bond, but my attention was drawn back to Azriel, who was now twirling his blade and sizing me up.

"You want a turn, Feyre?" he asked, his gaze taking in my lack of training attire and weaponry as he raised an eyebrow.

I shook my head. "I'm teaching at the gallery in a little while and I only want to take one bath today," I explained, leaning against the wall. "But I thought I'd come observe until I need to leave."

Azriel nodded and faced Rhys again, who gave me another ridiculous pout before raising his sword into a defensive position. I watched as the two males circled each other warily, before Az launched an attack and they became a whirl of blades and skin and wings. As their weapons met, I was reminded of the first time I saw them train together, when I had very obviously stared at their toned, tattooed bodies and Cassian had given Rhys a hard time about being out of shape. I hadn’t wanted to paint anything then, still so lost in my own feelings of helplessness and despair, but as I saw their muscles ripple with effort and the expressions of intense concentration on both beautiful faces, I found myself reaching into a pocket realm for my sketchbook and charcoals.

Since I had plenty of practice drawing my mate, I focused on Azriel as I turned to a blank page. With a few broad strokes, I captured the outline of his twisting form, his sword held two-handed across his body as he deflected a blow from Rhys. Glancing between my book and the fight in front of me, I noted how he kept his wings tucked tightly to his body to protect them from any stray blows, how his hair, slightly longer than Rhys’s, followed a moment behind the rest of his head when he moved, and how his shadows, barely visible, seemed to gather in the creases of his knees and elbows. I spent a little bit longer on his tattoos; although I had seen them many times, I had to wait for his body to angle toward mine in order to make sure I was accurately capturing each dip and whorl. His face I saved for last, taking care to render his features in as much detail as I could without color.

Finally satisfied with the result of my efforts, I began drawing Rhys on the opposite page. I knew the lines of his body by heart, so I only checked into their fight sparingly to reference the way his muscles bunched when he went in for a strike, his wings flared slightly for balance. I was so absorbed in finishing my sketch that I didn’t notice when the two males ceased their sparring, only looking up when a long shadow fell across the page. They both stood before me, chests heaving and glistening with sweat as they took a break from their training.

“If you wanted a pair of models, you had only to ask, Feyre darling,” Rhys drawled with a grin. I gave him a pointed glare before finishing the final few strokes of his tattoos, which swirled across his upper back.

“What can I say, I was inspired,” I quipped, choosing to ignore Rhys’s suggestive eyebrow wag as I met his gaze again.

“Can I see what you drew?” Azriel asked quietly, and I only hesitated a moment before nodding and passing him the sketchbook. Rhys moved to look over his shoulder and let out an appreciative whistle as his eyes roamed the pages. Azriel made no sound, but his shadows twined briefly around his arms in a way I had come to notice meant that he was pleased.

“I knew you were talented,” he said, handing the book back to me, “but your work is truly impressive.” I flushed at the extravagance of his compliment, tucking my supplies back into the pocket realm.

“It was good practice for me,” I said. “I’ve never really tried to capture movement before.”

“I thought you wanted to watch in order to pick up some new moves,” Rhys interjected, “not to ogle us.”

I snorted. “I don’t need to watch you get your ass kicked in order to pick up some new moves,” I retorted. “And I thought you liked being ogled?”

Azriel roared with laughter as Rhys let out an affronted gasp. “I was not getting my ass kicked, thank you very much!” he spluttered, which made Az laugh even harder.

“Really?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow. “Weren’t you complaining about an injury just as I arrived?”

“That was just for show, darling,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I am more than capable of defeating Azriel in hand-to-hand combat.”

Azriel stopped laughing at that, and he looked almost offended as he gave Rhys a once-over. “Maybe once, brother, but you never really got back into fighting shape.” His smirk was razor-sharp, and Rhys’s eyes narrowed at the challenge.

“How about a wager, then?” I suggested, an idea blossoming in the back of my mind.

“A wager?” Rhys repeated. “I thought you disapproved of frivolous gambling.” His tone was light and teasing, but I saw a competitive glint in his eyes and knew he wouldn’t be able to resist trying to win a bet against the shadowsinger.

“Usually I do,” I admitted with a shrug. “But I’ll come out as a winner either way.”

“And why is that?” Rhys demanded, brows raised.

“Because the stakes of this wager,” I said as my lips curled into a wicked smirk, “are that the winner gets to fuck the loser tonight while I watch.”

Azriel choked, his eyes darting back and forth between my mate and me. Rhys was gaping at me openmouthed, and I would have laughed at their expressions if the thought of watching the two of them wasn’t so arousing. “Well?” I asked, crossing my arms, “Do you accept the terms?”

Rhys closed and opened his mouth several times before he recovered from his shock enough to speak, and Azriel seemed equally stupefied. My mate stared at me a moment longer, before chuckling and shaking his head. “Every time I think I have you figured out, some new, wicked thing comes out of your mouth,” he said. “Yes, I accept your terms. Az?” He turned to the shadowsinger, who looked between us once more, then nodded.

“It’s settled then,” I announced. “Now if you could make it quick, I do need to get to my class soon.” Rhys opened his mouth again as if to protest, but Azriel gripped him firmly by the shoulder and spun him back into the training circle. “And no magic, obviously,” I added as the two males faced each other warily.

“Obviously,” agreed Azriel, not taking his eyes off his opponent, and struck so quickly Rhys barely had time to whip his blade into a defensive position. They traded a few blows back and forth before really increasing the intensity of their fight, exchanging thrusts and parries in a flurry of movement almost too fast to follow. I realized as I watched that I had never truly seen either of them fight for fun; Azriel’s hazel eyes were wild with exhilaration and Rhys laughed as he blocked a strike that could have taken his head clean off his shoulders.

My heart pounded as neither of them seemed to gain the upper hand. “Should I make you scream my name, or Feyre’s tonight?” Rhys taunted, trying to throw Azriel off balance, and my pulse jumped for an entirely different reason as desire shot through my veins straight to my core. The shadowsinger merely grinned - a feral, wild thing - before lunging forward under Rhys’s guard, knocking him to the ground and angling the point of his sword under his chin.

“Just for that, I’ll make you beg,” he murmured, loudly enough to make sure I could hear. I shuddered involuntarily, clenching my thighs together at the promise in his voice. He then helped Rhys to his feet and stalked over to where he had left his shirt and scabbard, sheathing his blade before looking back to both of us. “Until tonight, then,” he said with a smirk, and walked around the corner and back into the house.

“That was…” I began, looking at Rhys, but trailed off as I noticed the corner of his lip pulling up. He flicked his violet eyes to meet mine, and I was taken aback by the naked desire I saw. “You lost on purpose!” I exclaimed as the realization hit me.

Rhys shrugged, but didn’t bother to deny it. “Don’t tell him I said so, but he _is_ still better than me,” he admitted. “But you asked us to make it quick,” he added with a grin. “And besides, as you yourself have discovered, he is a talented and generous lover.”

My jaw dropped, and I found myself torn between wanting to laugh and pepper him with a thousand questions about how, exactly, _he_ knew that, but he pulled me out of my stupor with a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t you have students waiting for you, darling?” he teased, and I closed my mouth, suddenly businesslike.

“Right,” I said firmly. “Well.” I wasn’t quite sure what else to say after his little admission, but he was correct: I did need to get going. “I’ll see you later.”

“Until tonight, then,” he echoed Azriel’s words with a wink, then gave me a gentle shove toward the house.

* * *

That evening, Elain and Lucien excused themselves after dinner to take a walk through the city. Elain had discovered several night-blooming flowers since taking up residence in the Night Court, and often examined gardens and plant nurseries after sunset for inspiration. Rhys, Azriel and I watched them go, Elain calling a hurried “Good night!” as she grabbed Lucien’s arm and practically dragged him out the door. I was startled to find a fond look on Azriel’s face as he looked after them too, and I raised an eyebrow as he turned to meet my gaze.

“I’m happy for them,” he said simply, and I gave him a warm smile as I raised my glass and finished the last of my wine.

“Would you like a refill, darling?” Rhys asked, conjuring an unopened bottle onto the table next to him.

“You wouldn’t be trying to postpone the inevitable, would you?” Azriel challenged, and I looked around to realize that the three of us were indeed alone, with empty plates and glasses in front of us.

“Not at all,” Rhys countered, his violet eyes twinkling. “I had no idea you were so eager, Az.”

The shadowsinger shrugged, but a small smile played over his lips. “I figured you would be the eager one, Rhys,” he said smoothly. “I know how you get after you lose a fight.”

My curiosity was back in full force as I swung my gaze between them, trying to decipher what, exactly, Azriel was talking about, but Rhys just winked at me and held out a hand to each of us. In a blink, he winnowed us directly to the bedroom, making sure the door was locked and a soundproof shield in place in case Elain and Lucien returned early.

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys purred as he dropped Azriel’s hand and pulled me into his chest. “Are you sure we can’t convince you to participate instead of just observe?” His hands snuck under the fabric of my shirt and teased the waistband of my pants as he spoke. I arched involuntarily into him, and his lips found the underside of my jaw. I felt another set of hands settle on the curve of my ass, and leaned back into Azriel’s solid frame as Rhys continued his slow march of kisses all the way to my ear.

With great difficulty, I wriggled out from between them, walking over to the sitting area to grab a chair and drag it back to face the end of the bed. “As tempting an offer as that is,” I said to the two males, who hadn’t moved from the spot I left them, “the terms of the wager were that I got to watch.” I summoned my sketchbook and charcoals for emphasis. “I believe you offered to be my models earlier, correct?”

Rhys’s gaze was fixed on me as I settled into the chair, my sketchbook across my lap. Azriel took advantage of his distraction to close the distance between them, grabbing his hips and pressing a soft kiss to the column of his throat. I watched as Rhys’s eyes rolled back, his hands bracing on Azriel’s forearms, but I still heard his voice in my mind. _“Won’t you at least undress for us, darling?”_ he asked, almost pleading.

Without taking my eyes off them, I rose to my feet, quickly shucking off my shirt and pants. Underneath, I wore a sheer lace bodysuit of midnight blue, which I left on as I sank back into my seat. Both males were now looking at me hungrily, but I glared back and waved a hand for them to get on with it.

Azriel took that as his cue to capture Rhys’s lips with his own in a searing kiss, and I had to bite back a sharp gasp at the intensity of it. Rhys groaned softly as the shadowsinger cradled his jaw with one hand, keeping his grasp on his hip with the other. He tangled his own hands in Azriel's inky locks, and I realized there was nothing tender about this kiss, but rather it was a primal battle for male dominance. Their lips and tongues clashed just as their swords had earlier, and I again found myself pressing my thighs together, looking for some friction to ease the building ache.

They broke apart just long enough for Azriel to pull off his shirt, and Rhys made his own vanish before they crashed back into each other, hands now roaming down tattooed chests and arms. I was unabashedly staring, unsure whether they even remembered my presence, but at that precise moment Azriel broke away and returned to Rhys's neck, and my mate used the opportunity to find my eyes with his once more. _"Enjoying the show?"_ he asked, even his mental voice sounding a little strained as Azriel's nimble fingers moved to the ties of his pants. _"You haven't even opened your sketchbook,"_ he teased.

 _"I was waiting for the good part,"_ I replied, equally breathless, and I felt his answering chuckle as he vanished all of the remaining clothing the two of them wore. Both males were already at attention, and Rhys hissed aloud as Azriel palmed his length. He reached to touch the shadowsinger, but Azriel reclaimed his lips and led him backward toward the bed.

As the backs of Rhys's knees hit the mattress, he broke the kiss, sinking his teeth into the junction of Azriel's neck and shoulder as he again reached for the other male's stiff member. They both stroked each other for a few moments as Rhys licked over the spot he had bitten. When Rhys made to sit down, however, Azriel stopped him, bringing his hands to Rhys's hips and spinning him around. "On your knees, High Lord," he whispered. "Make sure my lady has a nice view."

My mouth went utterly dry as Rhys obeyed, crawling onto his hands and knees on the bed facing me and spreading his wings wide so Azriel had room to settle in behind him. My hands shook slightly as I reached for my sketchbook, but I somehow managed to get it open and a charcoal in my hand as Azriel reached for a bottle of oil sitting on the bedside table. As he uncorked the bottle and dripped a few drops onto both Rhys and his hand, I began the process of putting the scene before me on paper.

This time, I began my drawing with Rhys, whose head was thrown back and fists clenched in the sheets as Azriel slipped an oiled finger inside of him. I focused on capturing the strong lines of his arms and thighs, the curve of his jaw, spending a little extra time adding in the wrinkles of the sheet he knelt on. His grunt of pleasure told me that Azriel had added another finger, and I quickly finished sketching in his tattoos and the unraveled look on his face as the shadowsinger shifted behind him and uncorked the bottle of oil once again.

Azriel turned so I had a clear view of his hand as he rubbed oil down his length. I paused in my drawing to watch him stroke himself a few times, then slip three fingers back into Rhys, who moaned and closed his eyes. Azriel's gaze met mine over my mate's head, and his lips curled wickedly as he leaned down to murmur in his ear. "Are you ready to beg me for it, Rhys?" he asked, voice rough with desire.

"Just fuck me already, asshole," Rhys snapped, leaning back into the male behind him.

Azriel's grin didn't falter as he twisted his fingers, drawing another groan from the back of Rhys's throat. "Is he this rude with you, Feyre?" he asked conversationally, as though he weren't knuckle-deep in my mate's ass.

Before I could reply, Rhys gritted his teeth and dropped his head. "Please," he ground out, and Azriel's smile became truly predatory.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he began, and lined himself up and thrust in to the hilt in one smooth movement. He hissed as he settled, giving Rhys a moment to adjust. I took up my sketchbook again, adding in Azriel's figure behind that of my mate. I quickly outlined his torso, his wings peeking over his shoulder, but as I was about to start on his arms, he suddenly shifted, leaning forward to grab the base of Rhys's wings for leverage. I watched as he set a punishing pace, far rougher with Rhys than either of them had ever been with me. Rhys cried out at the touch on his sensitive wings, every muscle in his body clenching.

I took a few minutes to perfect my rendering of Azriel's fingers clenched on my mate's wings, trying my best to ignore the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and male groans coming from the bed in front of me. I only had the shadowsinger's face left to add to my sketch, and as I glanced back up I saw that both males appeared to be reaching their climaxes. Azriel's jaw was clenched, his hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, and he breathed heavily out of his nose as his whole body, including his shadows, momentarily stilled as he found his release. I quickly returned to my sketchbook, determined to capture the euphoric peace written across his features. I had just finished the final mark with my charcoal when Rhys let out a particularly loud moan, and I looked up to see Azriel working small circles with his thumbs on Rhys's wings as he continued thrusting gently into him. With a shudder, Rhys spilled onto the sheets, collapsing onto his forearms as pleasure rippled through his body.

Both males were panting hard, the mingled scents of their arousal permeating the room, and now that my drawing was done the full force of my own desire hit me as I watched them come down from their highs. I squirmed in my chair as Azriel withdrew and sat back heavily, his eyes still half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. Rhys remained where he was for a moment, forehead pressed into the mattress, before he too managed to lie on his back. With a snap of his fingers, the sheets were exchanged for clean ones, and I stood and sauntered over to the bed, settling in between them.

"How was that for a show, darling?" Rhys asked weakly, his chest still heaving with exertion.

I grabbed his hand and pulled it between my legs, pushing aside the lace so he could feel for himself the effect they'd had on me. "I hope at least one of you still has enough energy for me," I teased, running my other hand lightly along Azriel's thigh.

"Can we see your drawing?" the shadowsinger asked, his hand lazily circling my peaked nipple.

I arched my back into his touch, as Rhys rolled onto his side to have a better angle to slip a finger into my slick folds. "Only after you finish what you've just started," I gasped out, then it was my turn to writhe and grasp handfuls of the sheets as two pairs of determined hands descended on my body.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback and suggestions for future stories are always welcome :)


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